


Drive slow, drive safe

by Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge



Series: Sam and Jack (AKA: the Jam Fam) [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (sort of), 14.02 coda, Everyone is in a bad situation, Gen, I suck at titles, Jack is a troubled kid, Jam Fam, Sam is the best dad, Suggestions for what to call this are welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge/pseuds/Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge
Summary: Jack went to see his grandparents in 14.02. But the Bunker is in the middle of nowhere, so how did he get there?Aka: Jack drives for the first time.





	Drive slow, drive safe

**Author's Note:**

> So I was (and am)... a little... shall we say... "confused?" over the timeline of this latest episode. It makes it look like both Jack and Nick end up at their respective locations in the flash of an eye, but Nick's old house is hours away and it doesn't say where the grandparents live but I rebel against the idea that they just "happen" to somehow live in a suburban neighbourhood which also happens to be within easy walking distance from a secret Bunker in the middle of Lebanon. So I picked a city (Des Moines) which wasn't *too* far, I believe (as far as America goes) and decided to see how Jack fares when he escapes from Castiel's (rather unsuccessful, if we're understating) attempt at 'babysitting.'
> 
> ...And then Sam entered the fic. Because I am Jam Fam trash.

It isn’t hard to get the money. Sam showed him a couple of the places where they kept their emergency stashes way back when he was first born, after all. All he has to do is wait for Castiel to be distracted by something else other than him ( _which doesn’t take long, because_ no one _seems particularly eager to spend much time with him right now, that bitter part of his brain pipes up annoyingly_ ), then walk to a couple of the spots, swiping a few of the notes from each one, until he has what looks to be enough.

Getting to Des Moines, on the other hand, is a little more difficult. His experience with cars is limited to watching shoulder movements from the backseat and Bobby pointing out where the key parts are after yet another of their failed boxing sessions, but his research tells him it will take several hours to travel there, and a quick bus ride isn’t exactly a viable option around here, so it’s not like he has much of a choice. Honestly, he wants to just call up Sam and ask the older man to guide him through it step by step, but he’s too afraid Sam would either not answer _(he always has before, but that’s no guarantee, and Jack doesn’t want to annoy him enough for Sam to decide enough is enough)_ or would try to either talk him out of it or call Castiel as soon as they hung up.

No. He’s just gonna have to figure this out on his own.

He opens the garage door first, not too concerned with the vague possibility that Castiel might break away from whatever he’s up to with Nick to notice the faint sounds he’s making, then climbs into the driver’s side of his chosen vehicle, setting the bag containing his laptop and the phone Sam insisted he have snugly on the passenger’s seat. He’ll need them a bit later on, to check on the maps, but he thinks he can manage the first leg of the journey without.

Starting the car is… an exercise in frustration. After a few false starts, though, and a scary moment where he overshoots the corner while exiting the garage and almost ends up planting the hood straight into a tree, he manages to set out (albeit more shakily than the others always do) slowly down the road. By the time he exits the dense shadow of the trees, he’s (mostly) got he hang of all the basic functions he needs for now, and he’s willing to take a chance and kick the speed up a little bit at a time.

It’s a little over two and a half hours later, _long_ after he’s started to wish that he’d remembered to grab some drinks and snacks before he’d left, that his phone (now plugged in and resting on the dashboard after a not-exactly-skilled stop by the side of the road) begins to ring, Castiel’s name drowning out the map which has been guiding him on his way. He ignores it, though, moving hastily to swipe at the red symbol (which always reminds him of that thing in Sam’s room which the hunter assures him is _also_ a phone) before he can lose control of the car. This repeats a few more times but, eventually, Castiel seems to get the message, and the calls stop.

They start up again later, though. More intermittent this time- some five minutes apart, others closer to an hour, but Jack rejects each one. He stops a couple of times- once to obtain a couple of bottles of sorely-needed liquids, and once to let some of those liquids leave his now uncomfortably full bladder and to fill up on gas, but overall the journey goes about as smoothly as he could hope given his inexperience. (He’s rather proud of the fact that he only gets honked at four times, though each one is just as alarmingly heart-stopping as the first. And a few people glare over his parking at that first place, but he doesn’t exactly know how to fix the angle problem, so there isn’t much he can do about that.)

It’s shortly after he’s arrived on the outskirts of Des Moines that his phone rings once more. This time, though, it’s not Castiel’s name which glares accusingly up at him…

…It’s Sam’s. And, call him crazy, but for some reason he finds himself turning off of the main road and heading into a more residential neighbourhood, the lure of Sam’s voice like a siren call to his fragile nerves- a balm against the mix of guilt and self-loathing and fear and worry and the million other thoughts and emotions which have been running through him for _hours_ now, all alone as he is. And he knows it hasn’t, objectively speaking, been _that_ long since they last talked, but their interactions have been few enough lately that he actually _misses_ the sound of Sam’s voice. Misses that undeniable sensation of love and acceptance he so often feels in Sam’s presence ( _despite how much he knows he doesn’t deserve it_ ).

The call cuts off once- likely because he took too long to answer- but, by the time he’s managed to bring the car to a stop, it’s ringing again, and he pulls it from the dashboard, cradling it for a moment like a precious object, before swiping green and lifting the device to his ear.

“Jack?” Sam is already speaking by the time the phone has reached its goal, worry bleeding through every hastily-spoken word, and Jack can’t help but feel guilty over how _good_ that worry makes him feel. “Are you alright? Where are you? Cas said you just took off and-”

“I’m fine, Sam,” Jack cuts in, and he _hates_ how stiff and awkward he suddenly sounds. “I wanted to meet my family, so I’m in Des Moines.”

“Your fam- wait, what?! Did you just say you’re in Des Moines? How long ago did you leave?”

“I’m not sure. About seven hours?”

“ _Seve-_ no. Never mind. Just… are you sure you’re okay? And how did you even- did you _drive_ there?!”

The guilt compounds in Jack’s chest, heavy and cloying, tearing up and catching at the inside of his throat, and for several moments all he can hear is the rush of cars in the distance and the utter, deafening silence on the other end of the line.

“Okay,” Sam says eventually, bringing to mind images of late nights and a still-uncertain team. Of tired fingers pressing tightly into the creases of an anxious brow, and hopeless hazel eyes staring into nothingness when the man they belonged to didn’t think anyone else was watching. Jack’s stomach lurches, and he _wishes_ he had his powers if only so he could fly straight to Sam and apologise for daring to be the one to put that dreaded tone in his voice. “You said you wanted to meet your family, right? What did you mean?”

“I- my grandparents,” Jack admits, head still reeling from trying to catch up with everything his heart is doing. “Castiel told me about… about the past and the future and family and I just… I just want to learn about who I am now. Where I come from. And I think that- that maybe it will-”

He breaks off with a growl of frustration. Because he doesn’t know how to _explain_ what this about. Doesn’t know that it’s even _possible_ to put into words when he’s still not one hundred percent certain even _he_ knows what he wants to get from this. All he knows is that it’s important.

“Okay,” Sam repeats, slowly and deliberately, slicing easily through the haze of thoughts suddenly clouding Jack’s mind. “Meet your grandparents. Do what you need to do. But, next time you want to do something like this, I _need_ you to at least tell someone where you’re going, okay?”

“…Okay.”

“And Jack?”

“What?”

A tiny hint of something creeps into Sam’s voice, and it takes Jack a moment to place it. Not anger. No. No, it’s closer to… to disappointment. Disappointment, with just a barely detectable sliver of admonishment. And maybe just a little bit of sadness.

Somehow, that’s so much worse.

“I know you’re going through a lot right now,” Sam says, “and I can’t pretend to even _imagine_ how hard all of this has been on you but… but when we’re all back at the Bunker, I think maybe we need to sit down and hash some of this out, okay?”

The ‘before you put yourself in even _more_ danger’ goes unspoken, but Jack hears it loud and clear. It stabs into him- yet another failure to add to his growing collection- and he shrinks in his seat, fingers curling tighter around the smooth surface of his phone.

“Okay.” _And sorry_.

“Alright. Now be careful. I’ll call Cas and let him know where you are, but I want you to give him updates on your location whenever you stop, okay? You don’t have to call if you don’t want. Just message. Just so he knows you’re safe.”

“Okay. I will.”

“Alright. And… And I hope you find what it is you’re after.”

“…You too.”

The line goes dead, but Jack doesn’t move. Instead he sits, staring down at the map once more showing on his screen, and thinks. Because, suddenly, he is once more painfully aware of _just_ how easy it would be for him to never hear that voice again, and he can’t help but wonder guiltily…

Is he tracking down his family _just_ because he wants to learn more about himself? _Just_ because he wants to connect to them?

Or is he doing it because he can’t stand the thought of having nothing- of have  _noone_ - if Michael kills the closest thing to family he _does_ have?

When he eventually sets out again, deliberately switching his thoughts to ones more closely related to his immediate task, he’s still not sure of the answer.

And, when he pulls back into the Bunker’s garage almost half a day later, that hasn’t changed.

**Author's Note:**

> So there we are. It didn't quite turn out how I was expecting (though, to be honest, I didn't exactly go into this with a solid plan), but I hope you liked it!  
> (Also, my map said that the journey would take about five and a half hours. I added time for breaks and bad driving.)  
> (Double also: If any of you out there are interested, I have a discord server (with some lovely people in it) dedicated to Sam and Jack's father/son bond (aka the Jam Fam). If you think that's something you'd like to check out, contact me on tumblr (monkeysatemylastrolo) and I can get back to you with more information/a link. ^_^ )


End file.
